


A List of Things to do Bef-

by cruciomysoul



Series: How do you spell love? [4]
Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics), DCU (Movies)
Genre: Bucket List, Death Wish, First Person Narrative, Illnesses, Jaytim - Freeform, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Terminal Illnesses, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2170242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciomysoul/pseuds/cruciomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-ore I die.</p><p>To read the new, 2017 version of this on AO3 click <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/11887419">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I need to finish previous works before I begin new ones. I am a lousy person. I am so sorry.

My name is Tim Drake.

I am 19 years old.

I am terminally ill.

There is no chance of recovery. 

The doctors have given me just over three months.

Last night I ran away from home.

Some time before midnight I hitched a ride off of a total stranger.

I am still in his car.

The sky is still dark.

He has rolled the window down, and he is smoking.

It does not smell like a normal cigarette.

I do not care.

We are driving to the Grand Canyon.

It is just over 7 hours away.

I do not know this man.

He has yet to tell me his name.

Some time along the highway, I threw my phone out of the window.

The car is old.

It is worth peanuts compared to all of the models my father owns.

He offers me some of what he is smoking.

I have never smoked a day in my life.

I take the joint anyway, inhale, cough, choke and splutter.

He takes a hand off the gear stick and slaps me on the back as I lean forward.

I pass him the joint back and he laughs.

His eyes are glassy.

I am not confident he has complete control over the car.

I am not confident he believes I am real.

I am not confident I believe he is real.

We are not using a map.

We are following sign posts, or turning blindly when there is none.

I don't know what I was thinking when I started this.

But I am thinking, now, that I do not want this to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to have finished this by the end of next week. (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞
> 
> (Also, this is just a prologue, so obviously the whole thing won't be set out like this, unless you want it set out like this, let me know please!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Visit the Grand Canyon

At some point during the night, we pulled over to a layby, and swapped seats. He said he was getting too tired to carry on driving. As I buckled my belt on, the stranger asked me for my license.

"Just to make sure," He had joked, which I had found extremely hilarious, considering we had both been smoking marijuana only a few moments prior.

I passed it to him, and in exchange, he handed me his, too.

 _Jason P. Todd_ , it read. 21, Male. Born in Florida.

"Timothy, huh. 19. Ya' look younger." He tussled my hair as he handed it back, and I ended up raking my fingers through it again until it sat right.

That was about 3 hours ago, I think.

The sun has risen, now, and I'm still behind the wheel. Jason is napping in the passenger side, snoring lightly. He dropped off as soon as we switched, so I'm kind of glad it happened. I've had time to sober up, since he managed to slur out that was the last of his stash.

I can't say I'm too bothered. As therapeutic as weed is supposed to be, I'm not a fan of smoking. My lungs still have a slight burning sensation.

There's a small noise, and I glance towards the dash- the fuel light has come on, and I have no idea what kind of fuel this vehicle takes. Or where the nearest station is. 

I'm just about to reach over and shake Jason awake, when I hear a soft "Oh, shit." from the seat beside me. I raise an eyebrow, and glance toward him.

"What's up?" I ask, and boy, does my voice sound weird. All nervousy, and stuff. I guess it's because I've pretty much come down from my high, and Jason seems spectacularly sober, too, and we've gone back to being complete strangers.

"I thought you were a dream." Jason explains, sitting up slowly, "I didn't actually think I'd picked up some 19 year old hitch hiker and agreed to take him to the Grand Canyon."

I glance at him again, and he's rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Are you regretting it?" I question him quietly. There's a low, sinking feeling inside my stomach as I say those words, and it vaguely resembles nausea.

I keep my eyes trained on the road as he replies, but I'm certain he's grinning. "Hell, no. This is going to be a blast." I grin, as well, and say:

"Of course it is."

"So... where are we?" He asks, craning is head around to see the scenery. We left the highway a while ago, and I've just been following road signs ever since. We're definitely in Arizona, though.

"Lost, I think." And then: "And also almost out of gas."

"Ah." He makes a quiet noise, and then pulls his phone out of his pocket. I guess he's planning on getting up a GPS app, or something, but when he clicks the home button nothing happens. "Battery's dead," He complains, miserable. "Can I borrow yours?"

I nod, "Sure." And begin patting down my pockets, searching for it. And then I remember. "Oh. That might be an issue."

"An issue?" He repeats, sounding slightly sceptical.

"Yeah," I confirm, having the decency to feel a little ashamed. "I kind of, uh, threw it out the window last night."

"You threw your phone out of the window?" I nod. "Why?" He doesn't sound angry, just a little confused, maybe shocked. I shrug. Why not? I want to say, but that really isn't any of Jason's business.

Jason sighs, before unbuckling his belt and turning to strain himself over to the back seat. "Alright," He says,,  "Pull over." And so I do, while he grabs whatever it is he was reaching for and settles down in the passenger seat again.

It's a map. Battered, and probably a few years old, but a map, nonetheless. I have a quick look into the back seat, and notice a few magazines stacked. Some are playboy. Others are car mechanical ones, and a couple of Xbox mags.

Could be worse; could be, like, a body, or something.  _Could be my body_ , I think. _  
_

He searches the map with his eyes for a few moments, before slamming a finger down. "We're here," he mumbles, "And the nearest station is... here!" He nods, satisfied, "Know how to read a map?" I shake my head,

"Nope, not a clue. I failed orienteering." Jason snorts,

"How can you fail orienteering? Oh, well, whatever. I'll direct you."

"Good." And so he does. We make it to the petrol station in about 27 minutes, and it's empty. Open, though, which is good. 

"I got it," I say, unbuckling my belt and opening the car door. Jason's hand on my arm stops me,

"Hey, wait!" He panics, "I can't expect you to pay for my fuel!" He sounds lost somewhere between incredibility and anger. I laugh,

"It's fine, really. Besides," I add, smiling at him, "You don't even know me yet you've agreed to drive me all the way to the Grand Canyon. That's at least a couple hundred bucks worth. I can't let you pay all that." His hand slips off my arm, and he slumps back into the confines of the seat.

"Yeah, well..." He mumbles, and I take it as acceptance.

I fill the car up with a few hundred miles worth, before putting the hose back into its holder.

It doesn't even occur to me, as I walk into the station, that Jason could drive off at any moment, leaving me here stranded to pay his bill. So, really, it's a good job that he doesn't.

It's been a while since I've eaten anything, and this is reinforced by the loud rumble my stomach makes as I walk past the sweets.

On a whim, I do a complete 180 turn and grab a handful, and shove them on the counter. "Hold on," I tell the assistant, hurrying to the drinks aisle and grabbing a few 2litre bottles. I have no idea what Jason likes.

I also grab some sandwiches, and a big bag of doritos, along with some pringles. I can't carry it all, so I take trips back and forth to the cashier, apologising. It's a good job no one else is waiting in line to pay for their petrol.

"What pump?" The clerk asks, and I take a look out side, where Jason has transferred to the driver's side, idly tapping away at the wheel.

"Uh, number... 6," I tell him, squinting slightly to see the number. It's possible that I might need glasses, but I can't see them helping me much right now.

I turn back to him, and notice that, underneath the counter, there is the stationary department. I grab a biro and shove that on the counter, too. Just in case I ever need it.

There's a notebook, too. Tiny, with A5 size pages inside that are all blank- not even any lines.  _What the hell_ , I think, and put that on top too. The man behind the counter looks at me despairingly, and I give a sheepish smile.

"That's all," I say, "I promise." He sighs, and rings up the total for me.

"So that's $258.19," I blink. Oh. I was expecting it to be a little higher, actually. Oh, well. I show him my card, and he brings forward the pin machine.

It's one of the ones where you insert the card at the bottom, thank God. I slide it in, wait until he tells me to enter my pin number, and push in the four digits. I press enter, and then remove my card after the machine alerts that the transaction has occurred.

He hands me my bags, so I thank him, and exit the station. There's quite a lot to carry, but I somehow manage to hobble over to the car anyway. Jason hasn't noticed me come out- he's busy reading one of the magazines that were on the back seat. I open the passenger side door, holding up the bags for him to see.

He's startled at first, and then grows confused. "The hell is all that?" He asks, and I shrug.

"Snacks. Should I put them in the boot?" Jason shakes his head,

"Nah, just stick 'em in the back."

"Alright," I nod, and pull the seat forward so I can, as he so elegantly put it, 'stick 'em in the back'.

Jason's driving is a lot smoother when he is sober. I have no problems drinking without spilling any of it. And because of that, I feel very safe when I ask:

"Is it alright if I take a nap?" He nods,

"'Course. I'll wake you up when we get there, we're not far off now."

We indeed were not far off. It didn't feel like I had been asleep for more than 45 minutes, when Jason was suddenly shaking me awake.

"Hey, Timmy," He said, "We're here." Those words alone were enough to make me sit bolt upright, which sent  a funny shock through my head, which I'm still feeling the lingering pain of now, minutes later.

"What time is it?" He's turned the engine off, so I can't look at the time on the dashboard.

"Almost ten," He tells me.

"Huh." I say. Almost ten. Woah, I haven't even been with Jason for more than twelve hours yet we're already here. How strange, I think. This whole ordeal is strange.

Jason exits the car, then, and I have no choice but to follow. And then immediately groan.

We have to walk to the top. Of course we do. But, oh well. I can do that, if it means seeing one of the most spectacular sights on earth with my own eyes.

"Hey," Jason exclaims, "Let's have a picnic!" And before I can even agree to the idea, he's pulling the bags out of the back and handing some to me. He shuts the car door with his hip, and then press the lock key on his car fob. Grinning, he begins to lead the way up the path.

I follow obediently, and I'm glad I bought so much food back at the station. I'm going to be so ravenous by the time we get up there!

Some way along the path, I started counting my steps. It's a void effort, because I didn't start at the bottom, so by the time we get there I will have absolutely no idea how many steps it is- I'll just know that it's definitely more than I counted.

We're quiet, for most of the walk. We have the odd conversation, about uninteresting topics. It seems neither of us really wish to talk much, for the moment.

Which is okay, I guess. Well, it's more than okay, to be quite honest.

And then the trees thin, and you would never believe where we are.

It's like a giant hole. Just one giant, gaping hole in the middle of the earth. I gasp.

I've wanted to come here ever since I was a little kid. That's the thing, I've always wanted to come, but I never have been. And I  _could_ have been- if my parents could have been bothered to ever listen to me.

But, no. Work came first. Work always comes first.

Even after I was diagnosed, it was still work. If anything, it got even worse. But that's not relevant, any more.

All that's relevant, right now, is me, the food, Jason, and the spectacular gorge in front of me.

We don't have a blanket or anything to sit on, but that's okay, because it hasn't rained so the ground isn't moist or muddy. The most we'll get on ourselves is dust, and some crumbs.

So we plop ourselves down on the ground, and start distributing the food all around us. I'm not brave enough to dangle my legs over the edge, but I really, really want to.

We don't talk as we eat.

The sun gets hotter and hotter with each minute passing, and I know the night is going to be marvellously cold.

Soon enough, we polish off most of the food. I was right about being hungry- I practically devoured everything. I blame the drug. I don't actually know if it makes you hungry or not, but I'm going to blame it anyway, just because I can, and just because it seems plausible.

The notebook and pen is still at the bottom of one of the bags. I frown, for a moment, wishing I could think of some way to describe what I am seeing. Since I no longer have my mobile, I can't take a picture.

But that's okay, I guess. I never had a mobile when I was younger, and how many life changing adventures did I go on then? A lot more than I have done in recent years, I can say for sure.

And then it comes to me. I know exactly what I need to write in this journal.

Excited, I grab both items and turn to the first page, and hurriedly scribble down the words that have been longing to escape, longing since before I even know they existed.

"What're you writing?" Jason asks, and I shrug, but unable to keep the smile off my face.

"Oh," I say, vaguely, "Nothing important."

We stay until the sun sets, and the sky goes dark. It is so pretty up here.

The stars are twinkling, and there's absolutely no light pollution from factories or skyscrapers.

It's so beautiful, and peaceful.

I didn't have the courage to go up to the edge earlier, but now that the moon is up, I feel invincible. Regenerated.

So I stand up, and Jason grabs onto my trouser leg, but I look down with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," I tell him, "I'll be careful." He doesn't look convinced, but there must be something showing in my face that makes him let go. He nods, but starts worrying on his bottom lip.

And I walk forward to the edge.

When I'm what seems like only meters away from plunging to me death, I slowly slink to my knees, and then to my butt, before I start scooting forward.

And then my legs are dangling over the edge.

And in this moment, I swear I was infinite.

I laugh, and then laugh some more; the sound is loud, and it echoes slightly, which only makes me laugh harder.

I feel so...  _free._

After a few minutes of sitting here, and marvelling at the wondrous sight before me, I reverse scoot several meters and stand back up, before returning to me seat beside Jason.

"Happy now?" He's relaxed again, now that it is apparent I won't be falling any time soon. Grinning, I nod.

I am so, so happy right now.

There's a breeze now, and I'm quite cold. I didn't pack a bag of clothes, when I left, and now I realise that I should have. I shiver, and Jason sends a look my way.

"You cold?" He asks, and I shrug, blushing slightly as the cold nips at my cheeks. Well, it's either the cold, or the left over excitement. I'm not very good at differentiating.

"A little," I admit, and Jason pulls something out of his pockets - a pair of gloves, and hands them to me. I take them, with a grateful smile on my face, and put them on. They only cover half of my fingers, but that's okay. 

"Hey, wait- did you even bring any clothes?" I shake my head,

"No, sorry." I mutter, and he sighs, before shifting closer to me and putting an arm around my shoulder, and bringing my crushing against his side. "H-hey!" I try to protest, but he cuts me off with a stern voice.

"I'm not trying to be funny with you, or anything, but you look like you're about to freeze to death. I'm just conserving body heat, that's all." I relax a little in his grip after hearing that, but I'm still a little stiff. My heart is beating wildly.

"Okay," I say.

We sit there, like that, for a few more minutes. It could have been hours, really, since I didn't have anything to tell the time with. But it grew colder, and colder, until Jason eventually suggested we go back to the car. 

I couldn't have been more relieved.

As beautiful as the Grand Canyon is, I don't want to die there by freezing my ass off whilst wrapped in the arms of a stranger. 

Inside the car, Jason turns on the heater so we can warm ourselves up some more, and the air turns awkward.

I can tell we're both thinking the same question: what happens next?

"So-" I begin, just as he says "Well-" and we both stop, looking at each other, and smiling, somewhat ruefully.

"Go on," I say, but Jason shakes his head, countering with "No, you first." So I shrug, and just tell him the first thing I think of that sounds reasonable:

"How about we find a motel for the night, and decide in the morning?" Rubbing my hands together, I chance a look at him. He looks in thought, but then nods, starting the engine.

"Yeah, sounds good. Mind if we share a room? Costs less." I nod, I'm all for that.

"We'll split it, 50/50." I don't know if my parents have realised I'm missing. One of the maids probably has, but whether my father has checked his voice mails is another matter entirely.

I don't expect him to cut off the money in my bank account even when he does find out, but I'd rather not take too many chances. I know I have enough in my wallet for the motel room if I'm sharing with Jason and going halves on the cost, so I resolve to empty my bank account tomorrow as soon as possible.

It's practically a small fortune, so I'm not going to be able to carry it all around with me. I'll have to open a new account, I guess, and put it all in there, so that my dad can't touch the money if he thinks I've gone a-wall, or whatever, and decides I don't need it.

I do need it- I need to buy food, after all.

I'll buy some new clothes, too.

It's dark in the car as we drive, as well, but there's enough light for me to put a little tick next the words in my notebook.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why i;m writing in first person i hate first person fics???? gdi paige u big damn hypocrite
> 
> soooooo i have a few things lined up for timmie's bucket list, but not that many :-(
> 
> so how about you guys send me some more???? 
> 
> i was originally going to use my tablet to write the list, but after many disastrous attempts the best i could do was [this one,](http://i1083.photobucket.com/albums/j397/paggers/notebook1.png) so i decided to just hand write it. unfortunately i don't have plain paper, so sorry for that consistency error.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Visit the Grand Canyon. ✔
> 
> 2\. Ride in a Hot Air Balloon.

When we get to the nearest motel, there's a small dilemma. "I'm sorry, sir," The man behind the desk says, "But we only have a double room left."

"It's not a problem." I say, before Jason can say anything. He looks at me, questioning, but I shrug. "It's only one night," I tell him, and so we sign some forms, take the keys, and head up to the room.

It is a problem.

Under the sheets, it's cold, and Jason's body is radiating a lot of warmth. I want nothing but to snuggle up close to him and absorb it, but I also know that that is  _severely_  pushing the boundaries.

I can still remember the first time I shared a bed with Kon.

So I curl up into as much of a ball as possible, keeping my limbs to myself, and trying to suppress as many fantasies about Jason as possible.

Which believe me, is a hell of a lot more difficult than it sounds.

Because for one, Jason's clothes do not do his body justice. He is asleep in just his boxers, and despite only currently being able to see the protrusions of his spine, I got a  _fine_  look at his chest earlier.

And oh boy, is it fine.

He clearly works out, but he isn't overly muscled. It's a nice, proportioned body. His skin is fair, and it contrasts nicely with his dark hair. I suspect that it is dyed, though I can't be sure about that grey strand at the forefront. It looks too good to be a dye job.

When we wake up, it's sunny, and we really can't be bothered to do much. We lie in bed for a while, flicking through the channels. There isn't much on, but besides, we have to check out soon, anyway.

But this bed? Insanely comfortable. It puts Jason's cheap, faux leather car seats to utter shame.

And that's how we end up agreeing to stay another night.

So we throw on our clothes from yesterday, talk to the man holding down the fort about extending our stay for another night - who reveals that there  _still_  isn't a room available with two free singles, what are the odds - and exit the building.

Food or clothes first? That's the real dilemma. But our stomachs make the choice for us, and so we find ourselves inside McDonalds.

"Big Mac?" Jason asks, and I look at him strangely, before responding.

"No. It's morning. I'll have a breakfast McMuffin." Jason shrugs, and goes off to order, whilst I procure us a table.

We don't really say much as we eat. The weather today is nice, and so I wonder if Arizona is like that all the time.

For some reason, Jason bought a thick shake. "How," I ask, "Can you drink that this early in the morning?" He shrugs, taking a long sip. It's awfully loud.

"What can I say," And then, my God, I swear he winks, I am 90% positive that it wasn't my imagination, "I have a penchant for sweet things." I fall silent, a light pink dusting my cheeks.

After breakfast, we go our separate ways.

Jason heads into the nearest clothing shop, whilst I head to the bank.

I walk into the bank, and inquire to the lady working behind the glass screen as to how long it would take to open up a new account. "Minutes," She states, matter of factly, and then finishes, "And your debit card will be posted within a week or so."

Ah. Dilemma number two, of the day. "I see," I nod in understanding. This throws opening a new bank account out of the window, then. I'm not going to wait a whole week just for a card- besides, they would mail it home, and, well, I'm not exactly home, am I?

"Well, then, in that case," I say, handing her my bank book, "Can you withdraw all of the money from this account, then?" She looks at me sceptically, for a fleeting moment, before searching up my bank details. I can see the hesitation on her face.

"Sir," She begins, "There's quite a large sum in here." I nod; I am well aware of my current account status. She opens her mouth again to say something, but seems to think better of it. She closes her mouth again, and I feel quite bad. I guess it's not every day that someone requests that such a large amount be removed.

And just like that, something within me seems to break a little, like it was a fragile coating of dust that has just been scraped away. I sigh, and amend my earlier statement.

"Forget that," I say, "Just withdraw $2,700 for now, please. I'll come back for some more tomorrow. " I try for a smile, and she seems a little relieved. I don't think it was my smile that did that.

"Very well, sir. Do you have any proof of ID?" I nod, and take out driving license. I hand that over to her, as well.

Within minutes I am walking out of the bank, my pockets filled with notes. I do not feel any different.

I find Jason looking at shirts. "What do you think?" He asks, holding one up to his chest, before switching it to another version of the same shirt, but this time is blue.

I raise my eyebrows at the absurdity of it all. "Uh," And before I can respond, Jason nods gravely.

"You're right. They're both ugly." He puts them back, and I stand there, baffled, because I literally have no idea what just happened.

Huh. Shrugging it off, I select my clothes at random. I'm not fussy, just some jeans, vest tops, over shirts, and plain t-shirts. I also get a gym bag, one that's large enough for all these clothes. And an extra wallet. Also some more underwear. Jacket and gloves, socks.

Yet again, the cashier gives me a funny look. That's kind of the norm, nowadays. He asks if I would like a bag, and I shake my head, explaining that I would just put it all in the gym bag. I also decline the hangers.

We don't do anything, when we're back at the hotel room. Just watch a film on Film4 - it's not very good - and order room service.

It is very domestic.

It is almost like we are a couple, now isn't that just ridiculous.

This night is just as bad as the one before. After today's events, it has become that little harder to get Jason out of my nightly thoughts. Which would be fine, you know, on any given day that I was not sharing a bed - or hotel room - with him.

I don't know what time it is when I eventually fall asleep, but when I wake up, it is just after seven. We have until half eleven to check out of the room.

Jason is awake, also, which I find mildly surprising. I had pinned him as the kind of guy who liked to sleep in late. Maybe he does- maybe he just woke up early today for some reason.

I'll you one thing, though, I am exceptionally glad that I have woken up without any misgivings down below.

He glances at me as I groan, and then promptly jumps out of bed. A little too quick, in my opinion. My look turns curious, before extremely confused. Jason grins a little.

"Didn't want to get out of bed and risk waking you up," He says in lieu of explanation, "But I really gotta pee and shower." I blink, and then laugh. Of course.

It takes just about the length of Jason's shower for me to fully wake up, and when he comes back into the room, clad only in a towel, I almost have a heart attack.

Thank God he doesn't notice be staring and that I have a chance to look away- I am ninety percent certain my face is on fire. I announce that I, too, am going to shower, and throw the covers off of me. Just before I do, though, I put some water in the kettle and switch it on. I may as well let it boil whilst I shower.

It feels wrong to do it, in the shower, over Jason. So incredibly wrong, which is why I restrict myself as much as possible- as soon as it seems like I'm about to think of any aspect of him- his chest, his voice, his hair, I catch myself and think of someone else, anybody else.

I make sure I am not an abnormally long time in the shower, and when the cold air chills me as I step out of the running water, I try not to feel too scandalized or guilty. I shiver.

I didn't bring any clothes with me into the bathroom, so, like Jason, I tuck the towel around my lower half and walk out of the bathroom, you know, as non awkwardly as possible.

Which is made, suddenly, incredibly awkward by the fact that my face is currently taking up the whole portion of the TV screen. My jaw drops, literally, and Jason looks from the TV, to me, back to the TV, back to me.

There is a whole vast mix of emotions in his eyes, emotions that don't stay too long before they form the next one.

Betrayal. Confusion. Anger. Distrust. Horror.

It is then that I notice there is a woman talking, her voice sounding over my picture.

"-is thought to still be in the California area, whether he is alone or not is currently unknown. It is also unknown whether Timothy left home of his own accord, or was forcefully taken whilst on his way home from-"

 _"What the fuck."_  The words are snarled, and I involuntarily flinch. This was not how I anticipated this to go. I didn't expect to be on the news so soon. I didn't expect to be on the news at all.

"I'm taking you straight home." Jason growls, and instead of flinching, I blanch.

"Oh, no you're not." I don't mean to yell. But I can't go home. I won't allow it. So I launch myself across the room, and grab Jason's car keys before he can.

"Fine," Jason snaps, "Then I'll just ring the police myself and tell them."

"If you do that," I warn him, through clenched teeth, "Then I'll tell them you kidnapped me. And about the drugs." I don't mean to be a dick. Well, I do, but not really.

I just can't go home. Not now. Not ever.

Jason looks exasperated. "What the hell is even going on?" He stresses, and I sigh, because, well, because I really should tell him.

Honesty is the best policy.

I can still hear the news reporter in the background, and I wince, hearing her talk about my 'happy' and 'ideal' family life. Yeah, right.

"Turn it off," I say, quietly. I'm pretty much in a defeated state of mind. I slump my posture, and put Jason's keys back on the table. I'm not cut out to be the bad guy; really, I'm not.

I close my eyes, rubbing at them, and the room falls silent. When I open them, I notice he hasn't turned it off, but he has muted it, and is now looking at me expectantly.

"I'll tell you everything," I say, sighing, "But let me put some clothes on first." I grab my bag, without even waiting for Jason's response, and disappear straight back into the bathroom locking the door behind me.

Despite having just showered, I turn the tap on and splash the cold water over my face a couple times. I let it run, staring at my face in the mirror.

There is nothing spectacular about what I see.

I do not look ill. I do not look like a runaway.

I am freshly shaved, I am thin but not in an unhealthy way.

I am physically fit.

I am almost identical to the picture that Jason saw of me on the television.

But I do not look like me.

I no longer look tired, or worn out.

And I think that is because I am no longer caged.

It would be presumptuous of me to say that the cause of this is Jason, because I don't think it is. Jason has certainly contributed at an immense length, there is no doubt about that.

But I think what has really made me so unrecognisable - at least, in my eyes, is the fact that I let go of my own restraints.

I took that gallant leap, unlocked those chains myself, and decided to get into Jason's car.

I stopped being Timothy Jackson Drake, son of Jack Drake, terminally ill patient. And I started to become Timothy Jackson Drake, terminally ill. No son business involved. My own person.

So I sigh, twist the tap until the water stops its running, and throw on my clothes. I leave the soiled towel in the bath tub, like the instructions tell you to.

I brush my teeth. This is going to be a lengthy conversation, and I'd rather that my breath smells of mint throughout than of- well, of whatever my morning breath smells of.

When I come back out, Jason is sitting on the edge of the bed. I join him, keeping a distance between us. I know the decent thing to do would be to break the silence first, but as it weighs on out between the two of us, it's clear I'm too much of a coward to do so.

"What does she mean," Jason asks, quietly, "When she says you're sick?" I feel his eyes on me, but I can't look at him. I can't even say anything.

I'm aware that I'm crying. I'm not sniffling, or anything, but tears are raking their way down my face. I wipe them away, taking a deep, wrangled breath.

"I'm, uh, sick." I choke out, "Dying." I clarify, and I hear Jason gasp. My mouth is like my eyes. When the tears start falling, they won't stop. And I when I start talking, I can't stop.

"Just over two years ago I was diagnosed with a-" I clear my throat, pausing briefly. I'm not trying to be dramatic. Despite coming to terms with it, it's still a little difficult for me to speak about. "Uh, cancerous brain tumour." Jason is still silent, and I still can't bring myself to look at him.

"It's, uh, secondary in origin. The doctor's couldn't actually find the primary cancer, which is why treatment is difficult. They put me on chemotherapy and radiotherapy, and for a while I was in remission.

"But then it started to grow again, and they couldn't figure out why, or find an appropriate treatment that we hadn't already tried.

"So I kind of refused what they offered. That was about six months ago. Nothing's really changed since. Sometimes I feel really sick, but most days I just feel normal. Well, as normal as I can be."

There isn't really much else for me to say on the topic.

We're both silent for a minutes, again. I don't think the news reporter is still talking about me, but her face is getting on my nerves. I reach across, grab the control, and jam my finger down on the red power button. The screen goes blank.

Jason speaks. "I'm so-"

"Don't." I cut him off, suddenly angry. "Don't you dare say you are sorry. I am sick of people saying they are sorry." I hear Jason's mouth clink shut.

"Okay." He says instead, which is kind of lame. But it;s better than sorry, so I'll take it gratefully. I nod.

"Good." I know there's more questions on his mind- why did I run away? Why did we go to the Grand Canyon? He probably wishes he really did dream me up, at this point.

"If you're dying," Jason seems to have no problems saying those words. My attitude towards him has relaxed dramatically, and  find myself liking him more and more. "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?" I shake my head.

"Like I said, I refused treatment. They basically sent me home and told me to 'wait it out', which, I guess, is a polite way of telling me to go and kick the bucket with my family around me."

"So shouldn't you be home right now? With your family?" Jason's voice has gone quiet, and now, only now, do I look at him. I feel determined, and I'm sure it shows in my voice, in my face.

"No."

Sure, I feel bad for the maids and servants. They really were like my family, but it's not the same. I suppose it's only right that I elaborate.

"To put it simply, my family do not care. My parents have been away for the last two months, and I have no idea when they're coming back. If they're even going to come back.

"They don't seem to care - at all - that I'm dying. Before I was diagnosed, it was always work first, Tim last. Let the help deal with him. And now, even after, it's still exactly the same. They didn't even show up to half the meetings with the doctor; I was there by myself.

"I guess you could argue that that's because I was almost 18, you know, practically an adult, but you'd still think they'd care. That's a little bit of the reason I refused treatment. I wanted to know what their reaction would be. There wasn't one. They just went 'okay' and carried on with their business. It was like I had told them I was staying late at school one evening!" I laugh bitterly.

I guess maybe I am a little more bothered by this than I pretend to be.

"So," I begin the conclusion, the whole 'why I am here, right now, with you, on this hotel room bed' explanation. "After several months of the house help observing my activities, limiting my daily capacity for junk food intake and whatnot, I decided it was high time I got out of there.

"It was honestly like I was caged. If I went anywhere, it could never be alone. 'Just in case' they said. In case what? I dropped dead, then and there?" I snort. Looking back, it was honestly so ridiculous, so absurd. I don't know why I put up with it.

"I knew I didn't have to put up with it. Which was why I left. So I could live out what little life I had left, how  _I_  wanted to live it, with no one telling me that it was too dangerous, or that I needed to take it easy, or thinking that I was too fragile for anything. Because I'm not.

"I may be sick," My voice has taken on a warning tone, now, and I'm beginning to look at Jason with accusation on my face, in my bones. "But I'm not an invalid. I can take care of myself, and I know my limits." I am back to looking at my hands, the bed spread below us.

The silence between feels both heavy and light.

"What you're writing in the book- is it a bucket list?" Jason's not an idiot, far from it. I nod. He purses his lips. "Can I see it?"

"Not on your Nellie," I say, grabbing it and clutching it to my chest. This list is private. "Besides, it's pretty empty. Like, I've only got a couple things."

"Well," Jason reasons, cocking his head to the side. He misses a beat, and then smiles at me, all teeth- teeth that are so very straight, and entirely made up of pearls. "If you don't let me see it," He sounds like he's teasing me now, and it sets off a few alarm bells inside my head. "How can I help you complete it?"

My eyes widen as I stare at him, and I start spluttering, unable to fully comprehend what I just heard. "W-what?" I stammer, still in shock.

"That's what we're doing, isn't it? Ticking them off, one by one?" Slowly, I nod, and that's when Jason turns to face me, square on. There's a determined look on his face, and it mirrors the one I had earlier. "Then I'd like to help you, Timothy."

* * *

We decide the best course of action would be to check out of the hotel as immediately as possible.

Haphazardly, we shove everything into our bags, not particularly caring if it belongs to us or the other. I know for certain that we have not spoke about this as much as we perhaps should, but we can save that for a later day, now that I know there will be one.

We try not to run down the corridors. Best not to draw attention to ourselves, but that being said, our footsteps are definitely faster than average.

Everything goes fine. We're almost down the lobby, with just one floor to go, when my luck seems to turn into the shittiest available in the history of shittiest luck.

Rounding the corner down the stretch of hallway in front of us is a lone cop. We're too far away for him to distinguish our faces, and I to distinguish his, but I can distinctly see the outline of a policeman's uniform, the familiar colours of blue and black.

I feel as though I am about to go into cardiac arrest. I hear Jason intake sharply beside me, a small cuss leaving his lips. Did the man at the clerk recognise me, and call the cops?

But if so, then- then he wouldn't be alone, right? And the air around would be more serious. We'd have heard the cop sirens from our hotel room. The cop would be walking with purpose, not with his head down. It seems as though he were on a leisurely stroll, not searching for a potential kidnapped victim.

I conclude that this officer is not, in fact, here looking for me. Which is fantastic, except still a pain in the bloody ass, because if he recognises me, it's game over.

So I do the only thing that seems plausible. I stop, fist my hands into Jason's jacket, and yank his head down, his lips towards mine. We're kissing.

Jason reacts negatively, at first, letting out a noise of surprise and trying to pull away, but I dig my claws in deeper, and eventually - I am not even joking - he melds into the kiss.

Jason tastes like cigarettes. The normal kind.

Black Widow's words from the latest Captain America movie echo in my head: Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. 

Jason angles us, pushing my back against the wall, so that I am almost completely obscured from view.

I don't relax my hands, not even when Jason brings his to rest on my hips. But I do kiss him a little more, and maybe not just all for the act.

Fuck, I hope I don't ever have to share a bed with him again. (At least in the platonic sense, you know.)

I hear the footsteps draw nearer, and then they walk past us, and immense relief surges through me.

But then they stop.

"Jason?" A voice asks, and Jason's lips freeze on mine, and my eyes fly open. Jason looks at me, sincerity written all over his face, along with a look that makes him look like he's wishing for death.

I have no idea what shows on my face. I have no idea what I'm feeling.

Jason purses his lips together, slowly, before turning to face the officer. "Hey, Dick." He says, and miraculously, he is still keeping me hidden. It's kind of pointless, but it's nice that he's trying.

"What are you doing all the way in Ariz-" And then the officer's eyes flash to me. I gulp. I'm pretty sure I have the letters  **'G U I L T Y'**  written in blazing red ink across my forehead.

I never was a good liar, not even as a little kid.

" _Oh my God._ _"_ He hasn't yelled, but it was pretty close. 

Jason looks from me, to the cop, and then back to me again, also looking extremely guilty He's about to open his mouth, still staring at me, when the cop speaks again, a pained look flashing across his face. "Please don't tell me you kidnapped him." He pleads.

I hear Jason mutter, "More like  _he_  kidnapped  _me._ " And I can't help it; I elbow him, in the gut, rather harshly. "Hey!" He chastises, but then looks kind of embarrassed, a little sheepish.

A dark thought creeps into my mind, 

"Oh God," I say, feeling more than a little violently ill, "Please don't tell me you're an undercover cop."

"What?" Jason looks panicked, glancing between me and Dick. I must look ghostly white, or something, because there's an outcry of concern from both of them. "I'm not a cop!" As reassuring as I suppose that should be, it actually does nothing to calm me down. I'm starting to shake.

Jason's hands wrap around my shoulders, holding me still, keeping me steady. My body sags a little, and I feel quite dizzy. Nauseous, even. I'm going to throw up.

"Tim? Tim!" Jason's voice is far, far away, and my vision has gone all dark and splotchy. Have I vomited? My mouth feels like I have, but I don't actually remember doing so.

When I come to, it feels like no time has passed. I groan, because I have the headache from hell, and I still feel nauseous, but I am almost completely back around.

Groaning, I open my eyes slowly, owlishly blinking away the haziness, un-blurring my vision. I'm startled by the closeness that is Jason's concerned face; so startled, in fact, that I unthinkingly jerk my head up, and ow, yep, straight into his chin.

We both hiss, clutching our respective injuries, and I duly note that there's a dull ache coming from almost everywhere in my body. There's no vomit around me, however, and I still seem to be in the hallway of the hotel.

The officer - Dick, did Jason say? - is peering down at us both, a look of anxiousness and stress upon his features.

Hold on.

I've seen this face before. I know this face. I squint up at him, trying to think where I've seen him. Confused, I begin to get to my feet, and suddenly there are two pairs of hands helping me, and also two voices telling me I should probably not move, and so we compromise by letting me sit up right, back resting up against the wall.

I'm still staring dumbly at the officer.

"Are you okay?" My eyes flick instantly to Jason, who is still rubbing his chin, but doesn't see concerned about the pain any more. I nod.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry," I apologise and he shrugs, before bending down and unzipping my bag, pulling out my jacket. He hands it to me, pushing my forwards gently so he can wrap it around my shoulders.

"You look cold." He explains, voice, like his hands, gentle. Something inside me feels like this action is out of pity. Because he knows I am sick, and I almost fling the jacket right back into his face.

But I don't. I swallow my anger and nod as a thank you, because yeah, I kind of am cold now.

_Dick Grayson._

My head snaps up to the officer, who still looks mighty concerned. "You're Dick Grayson." I blurt out, staring, slightly slack jawed.

"Uh," Dick blinks, before nodding. "Yeah." I turn my head to Jason. I have absolutely no idea what is going on, but for now I feel safe, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that Jason is beside me and the officer in front of me does not seem like he is about to arrest either of us any time soon.

"You know Dick Grayson." I don't mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it's too late for me to take it back. Jason nods. I cock my head to the side, just a little. "How do you know Dick Grayson?"

Dick Grayson is the (adopted) son of billionaire Bruce Wayne. He is in line for the Gotham 'throne'- by throne, I mean the head of Wayne Enterprises, heir to all things Gotham.

Dick Grayson is a retired acrobatic performer from Haly's Circus, a top class athlete who didn't let the death of his parents halt his progress. Circus member or not, Dick Grayson was a fine performer.

I had seen him perform, once, on the television, when I was much younger. It was mesmerising.

I'd like to see it again.

Jason looks kind of uncomfortable.

"Dick's er-, well, Dick's kind of my brother." I frown. What? It must show on my face, how unimpressed I am, because Jason hurries to explain. "We're not, like, blood related, or anything. Bruce- you know Bruce, right? He took me in a couple years after he took Dick in, so we're practically brothers, sharing the same adopted father and all."

When I woke up this morning, everything was absolutely fine. I was having a fantastic time with Jason, not having to worry about anything.

Now, barely three hours into awake-ness, it has all gone to figurative and literal hell as I have no idea what is going on.

My life is spiralling out of control. I am a wreck.

"You're... the adopted son... of Bruce Wayne?" I look at Jason strangely. I look at Dick. Dick nods, and so does Jason, and I still feel sick, I am thoroughly confused, but I do not take back what comes out of my mouth next: "If that's the case, then why is your car so shit?"

There's a pause, a weird, spine chilling silence that is broken only by Dick's booming laughter. He bloody guffaws. I crack a smile too, poking Jason in the thigh.

He exhales, as though releasing a massive amount of tension from within. He probably had a lot to expel, actually. Not everyone takes the news that both your brother and father are famous billionaires lightly.

"You little shit," He mutters, but it's lacking any venom, and I'm pretty sure I can see the beginnings of a smile on his face.

I don't know how it happens, but soon I find myself with Jason and Dick, sat inside a Costa coffee house, finally getting that drink I had begun to brew earlier.

Dick is rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes. It's probably far too early for him to have to deal with this- a wayward brother and an ill teenage runaway.

Dick sighs. "I'm going to have to report it." I feel a sinking feeling in my bones, my stomach and chest, a dull ache everywhere.

"No! Please, don't." I am not above begging, at this stage. We have told him everything. From my illness to my running away to Jason's slight misdemeanour, to the Grand Canyon to the hotel room to my face plastered on the morning news. To the notorious hallway incident to this, to telling Dick everything.

Dick looks at Jason, wearily, before turning to me, addressing me. "Tim," He says, "Could you maybe possibly give Jason and I some time alone, to talk?" Feeling ever so numb, I nod.

"Of course," I stand up out of my chair, "I'll- er, I'll just be across the street." I point backwards with my thumb, and turn and leave the coffee shop without a further word.

Which is just as well, really, because the air inside there was beginning to get a little thick and heavy. I could do with the fresh walk about.

Across the street there is a cashpoint, which I use to withdraw another $4,900. I know it's not safe to carry this much cash around with me- I have over $7,000 now - but I don't have another choice. The only reason I feel confident about withdrawing this much money is because, even if my dad does get alerted to suspicious activity from within my account around the Arizona area, Jason and I will be long gone from here.

They seem to talk forever. I had taken to sitting on the curb and tossing stones for me to catch, attempting to pathetically juggle them, when they finally step out.

They're too far away for me to hear what they're saying, and they've stopped walking towards me. They embrace, each patting the other on his back. My brow furrows. Are they departing?

Yes, yes they are. Dick goes one way, approaching his police car. He gives me what seems to be a cheery wave, one that I cautiously respond to. Jason jogs over to me, and parks himself down on the curb beside me.

"So," I say, catching a stone for the final time.

"So," Jason mimics, and I shove him with my shoulder.

"So we gonna get arrested?" I'm pretty sure the answer is no, since Dick is now driving away, but it can't hurt to ask.

"Not any time soon," Jason answers, and I kind of like the sound of that. It's very ambiguous, but please allow me to point out that I would very much not like to get arrested. I have heard stories about prison. I would much rather be back in the hospital.

"Well," I sound pretty lame, there's no denying it, "That's good, then."

"It is, isn't." Jason agrees, shoving me back. "Idiot," He mutters softly, standing up and extending a hand towards me. Grateful, I take it, and we head towards Jason's car. We had put our bags in the boot before getting coffee. Jason must have known Dick wouldn't have arrested us.

I don't ask where we're going when Jason starts the engine. For once, I don't want to know or do anything; I am more than content to just sit back and listen to rumble of the car.

The roads are quiet all day, and the sun is shining. Around three in the afternoon I begin to perk up, become a little happier. I've realised something that I had momentarily forgotten- it does not do well to dwell. What happened happened, and obviously there is nothing I can do about that. What I can do, however, is enjoy the rest of my time with Jason.

So I roll my window down and higher the radio, just a little, and begin conversations with him every now and then.

The day is nice. This journey is nice.

"By the way," Jason yells at me, but even then his voice is difficult to hear over the ripping of the wind, "The order of this list- does it matter? Can we do them at any time?"

"Yeah!" I call back. It's one of those moments.

Those moments where I wish I was a girl- or that Jason was a girl, just that one of us was a girl, so that our hair would be flowing out behind us in some glorious mane.

Of course, for that to happen, we'd have to have a soft top. Well, whatever. I can make do with leaving my arms hanging out of the window. I grin at Jason, who turns and grins back at me, and he hires up the radio.

I don't know the song, but it's catchy, and nice. And it's such a cliché moment that I can't help but laugh, throwing my head back and guffawing until my sides are hurting and there are tears.

I hear Jason say the word 'Freak', which only serves to make me grin more.

Today started off like crap, but I feel like it's ending on a good note. I still have no idea where we're going, though.

It's about two hours later that we pull up some dusty old drive. I give him a quizzical look, and then am stunned into silence as something looms in front of us, taking up the whole of the horizon.

Jason pulls into a space in the car park, kills the engine.

We sit in silence for a moment. I can't quite believe where we are. I didn't actually think Jason was being serious, this morning.

I don't know how he managed to pull this off, either, on such short notice. But I guess perhaps anything is possible when your father is one of the richest and most influential people in the whole United States. 

"Jason," I say, all the air rushing from my lungs in one instant as I open the car door and climb out. "Are we-" He nods, and I slam my door shut.

"Not until tomorrow," He amends quickly, "There's a dorm for us to stay in here tonight, though."

* * *

The morning can not come quick enough. This time we're not sharing a bed, but we're still in the same room. 

"Oh my God," Jason groans, somewhere around two am, "If you don't go to sleep,  _right now_ , I will cancel this trip." I snort.

"That's an empty threat and you know it," I casually throw back, but nevertheless, I do try to calm myself down.

"Seriously, Tim, go to sleep." I roll my eyes. I am far, far too excited for sleep. "Because I really would like to get some shut eye myself, and I am finding it incredibly difficult when you're practically mewling over there."

"I am not  _mewling._ " I huff. I'm not even making any noise. "Goodnight, Jason."

He grunts in response, but, whatever, I think, snuggling down into the covers. I probably should get some sleep.

"All right," It's later that morning, and we're both properly awake, and both walking towards the balloon after having a hearty breakfast and the proper health and safety procedures run down. "So I've arranged with Dick to have our car sent over to wherever we land. He's still not too happy with this, but he understands how important it is to you, now." I grin. I'm so excited!

Our instructor goes through another set of procedures with us, making sure we know everything and that we had been paying out utmost attention, yadayadayada.

When he's finished speaking and gives us the go ahead, I practically vault into the basket.

It's all a blur, the roaring of the fire as it is lit and we are hoisted up into the air.

I feel magnificent. Like I am on top of the world. The feeling is indescribable; I'm on a plane, but this plane is much slower, and I have no safety belt, no harness, no anything; no windows protecting me from the clouds, the wind.

I peer over the edge, my hands gripping the edge of the basket.

Everything down below is so minuscule. The cars are like tiny ants, buildings like lego houses. Even skyscrapers are nothing in comparison.

My eyes are actually beginning to water, crocodile tears prickling at the edge of my eyes. I wipe them away, and feel Jason's arm come around my shoulder, pulling me into him, squeezing me tight. He lets me go almost instantly, but the feel was comforting, like he's reassuring me that it's okay, that it's all going to be okay.

And all too soon, it comes to an end. But that's okay. Jason had gotten a camera from somewhere- they probably sold them here, for those that had forgotten to bring their own, and we took lots of pictures. I shan't be forgetting this in a hurry.

Jason helps me clamber our of the basket, and once I am back on solid ground, I feel quite giddy.

I grin up at him. I have no idea where we are. He beams down at me, and I can't help it- I put my hands on either side of his face and kiss him, straight on the mouth, for the second time in two days.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cherrlyflamed](http://cherryflamed.tumblr.com) on tumblr has given me a lovely suggestion which i can't wait to dooooooooooo~


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